


Just Once

by audreyslove



Series: Signed Sealed Delivered [11]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:01:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyslove/pseuds/audreyslove
Summary: For #oqpromptparty2019, SSD, special prompt First Time





	1. Chapter 1

 

She knows it’s dangerous, the two of them hanging out together alone.

The first time she kissed him, it was a lazy Sunday afternoon at the beginning of her sophomore year. She had a terrible crush on him then — _has_ really since she first met him.

She was always attracted to him. But she moved home for that first summer, and she assumed whatever fire of desire was burning for him would fade into dying embers by the time the semester started back up and she had to see him more frequently… but well, that August he helped Emma move into their apartment, and there he was, sweaty and dirty and tired and absolutely mind-blowingly _gorgeous._

Emma and Killian went to lunch, but Robin had stayed to help her put together a bookshelf. He asked her how her mom was, and his tenderness had her melting into a puddle in the corner, as she opened up to him about every last terrible thing that had happened that summer. And he had listened, told her she was strong, that her mother was so very wrong, and that if she was ever feeling low about herself, she should call him, and he’d fill her to the brim with compliments. Maybe he couldn’t magically imbue her with self-confidence, he had acknowledged, but he could certainly prove to her there were people who thought the world of her.

And in the middle of screwing in shelves and balancing planks of wood, of talking, and sharing, and accidentally-but-not-so-accidentally touching, they shared their first kiss.

She pushed him away then, apologized and said it couldn’t happen again.

He refused to apologize for that moment, and it sends a lick of heat through her body every time she thinks of him like that.

The second time was a bit more… heated. Emma and a few others were out celebrating the end of the semester, drinking heavily at a packed dance club, so unlike where you’d be likely to find Regina during the school year. But she was happy, feeling confident and free for the first time in forever. She felt the stress of the semester being swept away with every swallow of alcohol, until her nerves were delightfully dulled beneath the soothing haze of inebriation.

And then Robin had showed up, miraculously feeling better than he had earlier in the day when he was nursing a hangover and said he wouldn’t be able to make it out. She was excited to see him that night. They had celebrated, drink after drink, laughing and teasing one another all night, until he had ended up on the dance floor with her, and Emma was downstairs arguing with Elsa, and…

She told herself it was just the alcohol (but she wasn’t drunk, full well knew what she was doing) and told herself it was just the nerves of the day, the giddy post-semester relief flooding her veins with these charges pulses of bliss, but…

She had been wanting to kiss him again so badly and for so long, that all these things just gave her the excuse she needed to let her lips finally touch his again.

The second she did it, she knew it was a mistake — a terrible one, because he is _quite_ a good kisser and she didn’t need a reminder with her inhibitions lessened. Everything seemed to fizzle under his touch that time, electricity cracking and lighting up every nerve ending and god, she promised herself this was the last time, the last indulgence, that it would never happen a _third_ time.

He had groaned and gripped her tightly, walking her back to a half hidden corner of the club where they made out passionately and frantically.

“I miss kissing you,” he had gasped when they finally came up for air, as if it was something they used to do so often that he couldn’t get used to breaking the habit. Ridiculous, but...

“Me too,” she had admitted, before diving back in for more.

She had an ankle hooked around his calf and his hands were tight against her hips before someone near her had the decency to make their presence known with a little whistle. And her sense of awareness came flooding back, mortification rising up in her as she broke up their heady makeout session.

“We can’t do this,” she breathed into his neck, ducking to hide from his eyes and from the crowd of people staring at them, no doubt.

His breath was heavy and hot on her scalp. “Sorry,” he had panted, “You just look so gorgeous tonight, and I just couldn’t resist you, I—”

“We’ve both had a lot to drink,” Regina had whispered. He shook his head and said _No, I haven’t had a lot to drink,_ but Regina had just pressed on. “I get it. It’s just fun.”

He smiled and nodded. “That it is.”

And with the excuse of alcohol they found a few other opportune moments to tangle around each other, trade soft and sloppy kisses amongst black lights and fog.

A few months later Robin told Regina he was back with Marian, and the pain she felt, the rejection, the guilt, it was all too much.

That’s when she knew. She knew she couldn’t be alone with him, perhaps ever, the attraction and affection she held for him was just too strong. She likes him too much. He can hurt her too easily.

She promised herself she wasn’t getting back involved with him again, even after things fizzled with Robin and Marian.

But, well...

The third night it happened, she had been out with Emma, Ana, Graham and Ruby. Emma, all coupled up with Regina’s former boyfriend.

And she told herself it was the fact Emma and Graham were together, some residual resentment she had been harboring along with far too much hard cider that had her in a heady makeout session in the bathroom of that bar, pressed against one another, groping and grinding against one another, wandering hands touching intimate places over clothes, and then his hand sliding under her shirt. They came to their senses then, when a knock at the door had her nearly jumping out of her skin.

Had that knock not been heard, she’s fairly certain she would have given into the feeling of it, and gone just as far as Robin wanted to go.

And well, she’s fairly certain from how hard he was, how he rocked into her, how he palmed at her ass and groaned when she did the same to him… yes, they would have had sex in that little washroom.

She declared it a mistake, as she always did. Getting too caught up in one another.

It seems to always happen when they are alone together.

So, they aren’t supposed to be doing this. Spending time alone with one another. That much is for certain.

Because she is getting too attached.

And because she promised Emma she wouldn’t do this.

Well, she promised Emma she wouldn’t get _involved_ with her brother, and they are only having coffee, not making out in dark corners of bars (at the moment). But it’s secret coffee, coffee they’ve decided “it's probably best they don’t tell Emma” about because she might get the wrong impression.

But actually it’s the right impression. Because even though they lie to one another and say they are just spending time to decompress between classes (they happen to be on the same part of campus at the same time), there’s something more, there has always been something more.

Regina has always had _feelings_ for him (she’d describe it as an attraction, lust), but lately it's hard to not acknowledge that it is so much _more._ She is acutely aware of that now, as she wanders into the campus coffee shop with this fluttery, heart racing anticipation she seems to get every time she spends time with him. Which is ridiculous, they’ve known each other for years, they see one another all the time, there’s no need to get like this just because she's seeing him for coffee.

She’s waiting in line to get her coffee, wondering if he’s here already, scouring the tables for _him_ , when she feels a warm hand on her back.

“Hello, darling,” he says just above a whisper.

God, she wishes his voice and his smile didn’t affect her the way they do. It’s embarrassing. He’s wearing a black sweater that’s well fitted, and she likes those jeans he’s got on. He smells so, so good. It’s his cologne, maybe it’s aftershave… it’s a woodsy scent with this hint of something mossy, and makes him smell fresh and clean. She wants to bury her nose in his neck and get a better whiff of him.

And then maybe cover his neck in hickeys, god she has it bad.

But he can’t know how bad she has it so she tamps down her hormones and says, “Hey. I’m trying to decide whether I go for my regular, or try one of the seasonal flavors.”

He doesn’t appear to be listening to her, he’s too busy looking at her in that hungry way, and she suddenly feels flushed and hot.

“Mm, I’m to get us that table over there in the corner before someone snatches it. Let me take your coat.”

She unbuttons and unbuckles, and then he reaches for her shoulders and slides the jacket off her.

“You look gorgeous,” he rasps.

And see, _that_ shouldn’t be happening, because her cheeks go red hot, and she’s probably blushing something fierce.

“Thank you,” she replies softly.

“I haven’t seen this before,” he smoothes over the shoulder of the tight, red v-necked shirt she had specifically picked out knowing she’d see him today. “It's a good color on you.”

“Stop that,” she sighs, it’s more of a begging request than an order, there’s no heat behind it (because she doesn’t want him to stop, not at all).

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, “I’ll get us that table, you get the coffee? Medium dark roast with two sugars.”

He hands her a five dollar bill, his thumb coasting over her palm in a way that really shouldn’t be so sexy.

But it still makes her shiver.

.::.

Robin picks out the quiet table by the window, just in the corner. It’s a bit removed from the other tables, which is good, they can have a more intimate conversation without her feeling on display. And when they have the more discreet tables, she lets him touch her. Nothing scandalous, she just lets him play with her hands as they talk, and maybe their legs touch under the table and both of them pretend not to notice.

So the corner table is very important to him, because she looks more gorgeous than usual today, and he really wants to get as close to her as he can.

They aren’t supposed to be falling for each other, but he thinks she’s feeling something close to what _he_ feels. But Regina is so determined to be alone, insists she’s never settling down, that marriage and long term relationships aren’t for her. She thinks she isn’t made for that sort of love and sacrifice. She’s wrong — so wrong — he can easily picture her as an amazing wife, she seems built for love and commitment. But she’s too scared to try, so he won’t talk about his feelings right now, less he scares her off.

He also knows Regina is very protective of her friendship with Emma. She’s told him that she hasn’t had a good friend like her before, not really, and she has no siblings of her own, and a family that is often cruel and unloving. So Emma is incredibly important to her, and he imagines (hopes sometimes) that these two issues are all that is complicating things, and that Regina truly has feelings for him.

Because he’s known her for just over two years now, but he’s pretty sure he’s in love with her, and it would hurt like hell if she didn’t feel at least a hint of what he’s feeling.

He watches her as she carries a cup of coffee in each hand, she's not wearing heels today, she has on these tan colored knee high boots instead on top of dark skinny jeans. She looks warm, soft.

“Here you go,” she says with a big grin as she sets his coffee in front of him and slides into the seat across from him. She opens the lid of the coffee cup and breathes in deeply with a sigh.

It’s not her usual order, it smells of vanilla and sugar, a bit buttery. She takes a sip and moans indulgently.

“What did you end up with, then?” he asks.

She licks her bottom lip, and he’s drawn to the action, wanting desperately to taste whatever she’s drinking directly from her, see if he can guess the flavor.

“Creme brulee latte. With whole milk.” She smiles, ”I wanted a treat.”

Something about the way she says it has his heart beating fast, has him feeling protective of her without knowing what is going on. It’s the holidays, so he can guess it’s family related. So he frowns and reaches for her hand, patting it softly. “A coffee is hardly a treat. I’m going to get you a pastry.”

“No, stay!” Regina asks, gripping his hand, “I’m not in the mood for food just yet, maybe in a little while? I just want to sit with you for now.”

“Okay,” he says, settling in his seat and trying hard not to smile too brightly. But he likes when she says things like that. Little acknowledgements that this is special. That it’s more than just killing time after class. He motions toward her coffee cup and says, “That smells delicious.”

“It is...” Regina drinks in and moans a tiny bit, then shivers as she swallows in this cute way, and fuck, he wants her.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes out, unable to hold back, his heart still knocking hard in his chest.

Regina raises an eyebrow and reminds him with a bit of skepticism, “You saw me three days ago.” But her cheeks are red and rosy now, and she looks truly touched underneath that facade.

“Feels like longer,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “Plus we don’t get to talk as much as when we are in a group.”

“True,” she says and adds, “Plus you’re too busy talking to Ashley these days.”

He nearly spits out his coffee at the mention of her name, and he wonders if she’s a bit jealous. She needn’t be. Ashley is nothing to him.

“That didn’t go anywhere,” he admits with a shrug. “She’s a lovely girl but not my type.”

“Mm, I’ve noticed what your _type_ is,” Regina says sipping her coffee slowly.

His ears burn, and he knows they have turned a shade of crimson, like they always do when she teases him. Is it because she’s noticed that girls who look like her are his preference, that he goes for strong willed, smart, sassy women with dark hair and dark eyes?

He suddenly feels rather exposed, cannot help but smile shyly at her before feigning interest in his coffee.

“So when is your last final?” Robin asks, when he recovers from his moment of embarrassment. It’s a nice roundabout way of asking when she’s available for fun, when he can get her out to a party.

“December 12th,” she says looking quite pleased. “I’m lucky this year. But if you are talking to my mother, my last final is December 20th. Which _is_ my last exam day except there’s no final, just a final paper due, and I’ve already finished it. I want a few more days here before I go home.”

“Looking forward to the holidays?” he asks.

She grimaces and shakes her head. “I love Christmas, you know that… but every year Maine feels less and less like home, and well… my new _stepfather_ isn’t exactly wonderfully welcoming. I just… I think I do better with a bit of distance from mother. I hate that I look forward to Christmas every year but dread celebrating it _there.”_

“So don’t,” he suggests. “Spend it with us. Emma and Mary Margaret and our mother. We’d love to have you. Just tell her you’ve had something come up and can’t make it up there this year.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. Mother would cut my tuition _so fast_ I’d be out on the streets before January.”

He frowns. “You’d never be on the streets. You have us.”

“Still,” Regina says sadly, “it’s not an option.”

“Do you have your tickets yet, then?” he asks quietly, trying to keep himself from looking too visibly upset. She’s leaving for a few weeks, and he’s really only been able to go a few days before he misses her. It won’t be a very Merry Christmas for him, either.

And that’s ridiculous. She would kill him if she knew how he felt. Absolutely stalk out of this coffee shop and refuse to see him again.

She smiles and nods. “I’m leaving the 22nd. And my mother and stepfather will be away for New Years on some sort of cruise, so I was thinking of coming back here early.”

“Good,” Robin mutters. So that’s only a week apart. “I’m surprised Cora hasn’t refused to allow you to leave Maine during the entirety of break, considering she’s so disappointed with your choices here in DC.”

“I told Mother I need to stay for my internship and she didn’t much question it.” She shrugs. “But she insisted I be there for Christmas. So I still get to spend the holiday being told what a disappointment I am… but at least I’m out for New Years.”

“Will and Killian are going to be here. You should go out with us. We are going to do… something, not sure what.” He tries to be nonchalant.

“Emma said we are going to do something,” she shrugs. “Girls night, no men dividing us, blah blah blah.”

“What have we ever done to her?” Robin asks in mock offense.

Regina just rolls her eyes. “Besides, I’m not 21 yet. I won’t be able to join you and Will unless you plan on taking me some place that’s going to easily accept my fake ID.”

“Ahh, that’s right. Damn America and it’s archaic ridiculous prohibition-esque views on drinking.”

“Weren’t you born right down the street?” she jokes back.

“Hush, my birth certificate may say I’m a fellow patriot, but my accent says otherwise,” Robin smirks at her, then winks.

She just stares at him for a moment, grinning, but before he can ask why, she’s clearing her throat and sharing, “Anyway I just have to get my final out of the way for Political Theory, and I'm pretty much done.”

Robin smiles at the mention of the class. “So how is Professor Brady then?”

“As annoying as ever,” Regina gripes, with a roll of her eyes. “Your notes save me, I swear that woman makes less sense every class. And the tests aren’t on the material we are actually studying… but I guess you warned me.”

“I did,” he acknowledges with a twinkle in his eye.

 

“But still better than taking that class with Professor Whale, trust me.”

“I’m not so sure of that anymore,” Regina says, taking another dainty sip.

“He’s an ass and can’t keep his hands to himself,” Robin states plainly. “There’s been lots of complaints but he’s famous and has tenure so… anyway I can’t imagine he wouldn’t try it on you, you’re gorgeous, and a serious student, and he has his methods…”. Robin shakes his head. “Then I’d get expelled for beating the shit out of him, and we can’t have that.”

He takes another moment just to look her over. She’s so unbelievably beautiful. It’s criminal.

“I’m sure I could handle myself,” she wrinkles her nose and takes a sip of coffee. “But thank you for telling me to switch, anyway. And for the compliments.”

“Just being honest,” he reminds, he’s always reminding her how wonderful she is, and one day she will believe him.

But not today, because after a brief moment where she lets him hold her free hand, where they lock eyes and share a knowing look, she runs from his words like she always does, blushing deeply and then asking, “And how was your class then?”

Oh, fuck all talk about school, someone just opened the door and a gust of cold air blows in, just for a second, but it's enough to make her nipples stiffen through her shirt and how is he supposed to avoid looking at them now?

He’s never wanted anyone this badly. It’s ridiculous.

This is so fucking unfair.

When the fuck are they going to have some real alone time together?

“There are a ton of Christmas themed parties during finals weeks at all the bars,” he drops casually. “I assume you’ll be headed off to some once finals are over?”

She grins and shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Maybe I’ll see you at one. My last final is the 14th,” he smirks. It’s not, his last final is actually the 19th, but he has plenty of days in between to cram, and he’d love to see her at a party.

“That’s lucky.” She raises her eyebrow, as if she sees right through his lie.

Robin can only shrug. And they talk, and flirt, and he gets a bit of a taste of what it would like to be with her for real.

Almost, but not quite.

.::.

Finals week is brutal. There’s always pressure to be perfect for Regina, and the voice that used to be her mother prodding her to improve, to try harder, be better, to not fail… its Regina’s voice now, sadly. She put the pressure on herself, worked herself up so much over the last few weeks she’s barely been able to breathe.

Coffee with Robin had been the calm before the storm. It was fun, and definitely gives her something to look forward to when exams are over. He’s been texting her encouraging words throughout the week, finding excuses to stop by and see her, “accidentally” running into her in the library just to say hi. It all has the appearance of a friendly encounter each time he runs into her. It’s entirely her imagination that’s making it more. But her imagination has been running _wild._

That’s a problem, but one she hasn’t let herself dwell on, because she has work to do.

And at five PM on Thursday, when she walks out of that last final, sleep deprived and full of adrenaline, she definitely doesn’t want to dwell on anything negative.

She just feels good.

She has a week to spend in town before she has to go back to Boston, and that means a few nights of going out and releasing all the stress of finals week. Though Emma and Ruby aren’t as lucky as her and have finals until the very last day of the semester, so they will be studying (or Emma at least, Ruby seems less serious in studies these days).

There aren’t many people she knows that are done with the semester so early so she doesn’t expect to find company, but two classmates stop her on the way out.

“Do you guys want to go Cloak & Dagger later?” Merida asks.

“We’re _all_ going,” Jacinda announces. “That test was a nightmare. I have another one coming up on Monday but I need a break. Pregaming at my apartment.”

“I have to get hussied up,” Merida announces. “Tonight is going to be my night. I’ve got nothing to do until January, and I’m using every bit of it to make bad decisions.”

Regina snickers, and agrees. “I’ll be over,” she promises. “I just need a shower and put on some makeup.”

She’s betting on seeing Robin. And she won’t admit it to anyone, but that’s why she’s putting on that spaghetti strapped surplice neckline dress that’s a bit too tight on her, that’s why she’s going to the trouble of putting on fake eyelashes, and that’s why she’s wearing heels that she knows she will regret come morning.

She only has two hefty glasses of white wine at Jacinda’s with people who are practically strangers, but that weightless feeling, that effervescent feeling of freedom comes to her.

She’s having a good time, despite the fact she’s usually reserved around people she barely knows. But her insecurities have temporarily left her and she’s surprisingly light, laughing and _enjoying_ spending time with new people.

 

She’s free. For the next week, she doesn’t have to worry about her mother or school or anything. She can just be.

They pile into a cab and head to the Cloak and Dagger, and Regina is feeling almost fearless.

“Dance with me!” Merida drags her over to the center of the dance floor while Jacinda handles the drinks.

Sometimes Regina dances half heartedly, motions barely keeping up with the music. But today she is too full of adrenaline to stop, pulling out every provocative, risqué, attention grabbing move she has.

She knows how to dance, after all, she might as well pull out the talent she has.

“Where the fuck was _this_ girl all semester?” Merida asks incredulously, motioning to her, “Why didn’t you get all slutted up and go out with us before?”

Regina can only laugh over the sound of the PussyCat Dolls. She used to hate this song, but, well, now it’s less annoying.

“I think I kicked that final’s ass,” she says loudly over the music as Jacinda hands them their drinks. “I think I kicked _every_ final’s ass. I can celebrate.”

“You should celebrate more often,” Merida notes. “And maybe drink more. You were so tense in class. And you always dressed up, fuck it was a ten AM class, wear yoga pants ONCE in your life.”

Regina laughs and shakes her head. “I’m a snob,” she admits honestly, causing Merida to snort laugh. “I’m trying to be less of one, though!”

Fall Out Boy starts to play, and it’s very unlike this bar (way too frat boy, way too white, not a song you can dance to at all), and there are whines and complaints from the crowd, but Regina just laughs, singing the words loudly with Jacinda while Merida sips her beer and rolls her eyes.

“Regina?”

A wave of excitement radiates through her body, her heart almost bursts from it.

She turns to find him smiling at her, and she might be coy another time, but not now. Now she shouts his name and launches herself into his arms, lets him pick her up and even wraps her legs around his waist as he spins her and takes her off the dance floor area.

“Have I mentioned that I love how you get after the semester is over?” he chuckles.

“What am I like after the semester is over?” she asks, her forehead pressed against his, nose rubbing against his before she draws back enough to see his face.

“Wild and carefree,” he says back, but she knows that’s not what he means, so she raises an eyebrow. “And affectionate,” he adds.

She laughs at that, still in his arms, no intention of leaving them anytime soon.

“Affectionate, huh?” she laughs. She knows he’s thinking of last year around this time, when they kissed one another senseless.

They can’t do that now, so she settles for another eskimo kiss, just a cute, close action to release some of the tension.

“Emma has a final tomorrow,” she explains into his ear, “She is home studying instead of out with us. So I don’t have to worry about how this looks.”

She slides out of his arms, adjusting her dress as she comes back down to Earth. His hands never leave her, only shift so they are on either side of her hips. The air feels charged as he looks into her eyes. She watches his adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“You’re staring,” she says softly, in a way that makes it clear it’s not at all unwanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighs. “Just everything about you is so…”

He bites his lip as if to keep himself from saying more.

 

Regina can’t decide whether she wants him to finish or not. But he must have decided against it, because he trails off entirely, trading words for plenty of eye contact.

John picks that moment to hand Robin a beer, but Regina takes the cup before he can, taking a long sip before handing it back to Robin.

“Dance with me,” she proposes, deciding to let him off the hook instead of urging him to finish his thought.

Robin downs the rest of the beer, then let’s her lead him back to the dance floor. John winks at her, a cheeky little, _Hello,_ that has her rolling her eyes back at him.

And then she melts into Robin’s arms and forgets about everything but the music and one another.

.::.

God, he wants to kiss her.

She’s so close to him, he’d only have to tilt his head in just the right way and they’d touch lips. But they can’t put it in the open, even when everyone is drunk around them. He doesn’t care who knows that he wants her, or who knows that he’s in love with her for that matter, but _Regina_ cares about both those things and he has to be respectful.

But god, she is so seductive right now, pressed against him as she dances, her arms wrapped around his neck.

This is the best kind of torture.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he whispers into her ear. “So we can toast to the end of the semester?”

She smiles and nods, takes his hand as he leads her to the bar and orders her a gin and tonic and himself a beer.

The music is too loud to really speak, but Robin tries, yelling “So, you’re in a good mood. I take it the final went well?”

She shrugs, downing her drink. “It’s over. And I felt good about it. I guess I’ll have to see how it went later. Your week go okay?”

He shrugs and smiles. “I don’t really care about school.”

“Mmm….” Regina raises an eyebrow and tilts her head.

“What?” he asks, noting her sly smile.

“You transferred here from the University of Michigan to pursue some fancy double major, you have an actual career plan. You care.”

“I care about other things more,” he winks, “I decided to wing it a bit this semester, but it’ll be fine. I don’t need the highest grades.”

“Yes, you’ll get by on those good looks and charm,” she teases.

He feels like he’s in grade school, even her joking about his good looks fills him with unearned pride and excitement.

It’s not like he doesn’t know she’s into him, its not like he doesn’t know how attracted she is to him — he’s seen enough evidence of that by now.

So it’s silly to be so excited, to have it acknowledged in any way. But she does things to him no woman ever has.

“I’m about to use some of that charm right now,” he teases back, and then whispers in her ear, “Your tits look amazing in that dress, and I can’t stop staring.”

She is too drunk to even pretend to be offended. She just laughs and whispers back, “That was the idea.”

“For me to lose my mind and possibly pop a boner in a very public place?” he asks, smiling at her.

She laughs. “No, it’s not about you. But sometimes it’s nice to have a little attention.”

“Ahh,” he says. He doesn’t want to know this, but she’s entitled, and he’s watched it happen a few times, and he has to be prepared if it's going to happen again. “Looking to get laid?”

She shrugs. “Not really. Just wanted to be a tease tonight.”

“You’re succeeding,” he whispers back in her ear.

They dance for a bit, she’s _definitely_ teasing him, not only the occasional grind against him, but the way she dances with this confidence, the way she moves her body, it always has him completely in awe of her.

She’s had enough to drink to be considered tipsy, definitely being more flirtatious than usual with him, at least put in public.

She wraps her arms around him and whispers into his ear, “Thank you so much.”

“For what?” he asks, almost laughing at the idea she owes _him_ gratitude.

“Everything this semester, this year. Just being you. It hasn’t been so easy for me…”

“I’m always here for you,” Robin tells her loudly over the music. “And I’m just as thankful to you.”

He won’t get mushy or corny or start waxing poetic about her and how he gets such a thrill seeing her, how she is the first person he wants to talk to when he’s happy or sad or really any emotion in excess, how he’s already pretty much lost to her. She will run away. And being with Regina involves a careful approach. She’s easily frightened of the most innocent of things, and so fearless of the truly dangerous things.

Before either of them can say another word Regina is being pulled by a giddy redhead. He can’t hear much of what is being said over the loud music, but it's something about “free shots.” Regina shoots him an apologetic look and follows her new friend off the dance floor.

Robin sighs and tries to shake it off.

It isn’t happening, this thing between them. She’s been nothing if not clear in words that nothing can happen again (but it always _feels_ differently when it’s just the two of them together).

He catches John at the bar motioning to a second beer in his hand, and Robin heads over, eager for another drink.

They make small talk — what they can, over the loud music, trade looks over girls, Robin even helps John flirt with a girl at the bar, but he’s really only half into it. He feels… not himself.

“Oh hey, wasn’t Regina here?” John asks, looking around.

“She went off with some girls to take some shots,” Robin shrugs. “I heard something about them being free, which means either the bartender is being extremely generous or some slimy men are currently trying to ply them with liquor.”

“She’ll be fine,” John mutters.

“I know,” Robin scowls back. “I never said I was worried.”

John laughs. “Good. Because you were right about the slimy guys.”

He motions over to the other end of the bar where Regina is. There is a man next to her, he’s holding a lime in his mouth and pointing to his neck.

Robin’s breath catches. He should really look away. He’s been deliberately trying to avoid looking at her for just this purpose. He doesn’t need to see Regina doing body shots off a random asshole’s neck.

He watches her take the tequila and then turn abruptly to the red headed girl and licks _her_ neck instead.

Merida cheers and hands her a lime.

The guy even seems like a good sport about it, laughing along.

Robin doesn’t have the right to relieved at all.

He takes a sip of beer to cover his pleased smile, but it doesn’t seem to conceal anything at all.

“Introduce me to her friends,” John says, “come on.”

“Nah, let’s give her space, I—”

But John is already walking toward her and Robin sighs, following with a wince.

.::.

She’s can’t lie, when she sees Robin heading toward her, she’s ridiculously happy.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Merida asks, leaning in and point to Robin.

“No,” Regina laughs. “Just a friend.”

Jacinda raises an eyebrow, and Regina feels the need to clarify, “He’s my best friend’s brother. That’s all.”

Before Jacinda can say anything, John is there, making introductions and sizing up the guys that had just bought Regina and her friends drinks.

Regina rolls her eyes playfully at Robin tilting her neck toward John as he starts to flirt with Merida. Robin shrugs.

“They tented and heated the rooftop upstairs, do you want to take a break from the music for a bit?” Jacinda asks, yelling out to Regina.

Regina is dressed in very little, but then again they all are, and she’d rather get away from the guys who bought them a few drinks and now seek to feel entitled to cling to them.

“Let’s go,” Regina says, grabbing Robin by the wrist. “I could use the fresh air.”

She brushes past the assholes without a word of goodbye, using Robin as a bit of a shield.

One crowded stairwell and a few hundred feet later and they are in a quieter, less crowded (albeit colder) part of the nightclub.

“You all done with the semester, then?” John asks Jacinda and Merida.

“Fucking finally,” Merida groans. “Most people are still working through finals. We lucked out.”

“That we did,” John smiles.

The conversation grows animated, because everyone is in a good mood. Regina’s friends do the primary amount of talking with John chiming in. Will comes up eventually to chat as well, and he’s loud, and ridiculous and that’s a nice distraction.

He gets close to Regina, enough to where h can drape his hand over the small of her back, or run fingers over her spine for a second.

It all makes her feel warm (the liquor is helping with that) and they are trading looks, secretly, between friends, that is just riling her up.

“DiHaving a good time?” Robin asks.

Regina shrugs. “It’s had its ups and downs.”

“And those men? Were they an up or a down?”

She rolls her eyes. “They were fine.”

“Just fine? You seemed to have fun. Though I never pictured you as the body shot type.”

“Are you jealous?” Regina’s eyebrow raises to the ceiling as she looks at him.

Robin shrugs. “I like to be teased. too.”

“I tease you plenty,” Regina laughs.

“No, you could always tease more.”

“Mm, I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, bumping into him playfully.

Regina definitely wants to tease him more.

She wants to do that and a lot more.

And Emma isn’t here, in fact Emma is probably not coming out for the rest of the semester without Graham, so fuck it, why can’tshe just have one night where she can do what she wants?

But Jacinda drags her into some boring conversation about school and the moment ends, it’s frustrating, they are always pulled apart the second she thinks that they might end up together.

Robin leaves at some point, she wonders if he got a better offer for how to spend the night.

She’s just about to send him an annoyed text when she spots him in the corner of the little tented rooftop, holding a drink for himself and a shot for her.

He looks at her playfully and sticks a lime wedge in his mouth, making it very clear he saw those idiot me coming on to her from before.

He points at his neck smugly and holds the shot up for her.

He thinks he’s _soooo_ funny, doesn’t he?

She decides to make him stop laughing in the best of ways.

And that is how she ends up leaning into him and licking his neck.

Robin makes this sound, this exy, surprised little thing, and then his hand is guiding her, resting at the back of her neck as she continues to lick and suck and kiss his neck, because what the fuck, who the hell cares at this point? She’s denied herself this for long enough and ti’s been a long semester and she just wants a few moments.

When she pulls out of his neck, Robin is standing looking awestruck, holding the lime that used to be in his mouth. Regina takes it from his hand and puts it back in his mouth.

She goes to suck the lime juice out, but it’s only a second before the fruit drops between them and they are kissing without pretense.

It’s only a kiss.

That’s what she tells herself as it starts.

Only an innocent kiss.

A full minute later she’s pinned against the brick wall, her back freezing, goosebumps flaring, and fuck, it’s only kissing, but it is a _lot_ of kissing and she’s not exactly sure how she’s supposed to stop this, even if she wanted to.

Oh there are reasons not to get involved with someone she likes _this_ much and it’s bound to leave her heartbroken. But it feels so good, so right that she really can’t worry about protecting herself from the inevitable fallout.

Maybe just once, just once, they can have this.


	2. Chapter 2

“We can’t, mm, do this—” she manages to whisper between kisses.

Robin pulls back and looks at her as if she’s just stabbed him in the heart. His lips are swollen and he’s panting, she knows she’s breathing heavy too, she can hear it over the loud pounding of her heart.

“Why can’t we?” He manages to ask. “We are consenting adults, we are both single, we owe—“

“We can’t do this _here,”_ she explains, still a bit breathless. “Our friends will see, and it will get complicated and…” she strokes his cheek tenderly, her thumb running circles over the apple of it, “we don’t need all that, do we? We just need to find somewhere more hidden or private...”

He smiles and shakes his head. She looks for a better spot, her eyes focus on the upstairs women’s room, the door trimmed with Christmas lights. There’s a line, the chances of them getting a stall without being noticed are slim to none. There is the men’s room though, and it doesn’t appear to be crowded. It’s going to be gross, but—

“Regina?” Robin asks bending down to kiss her neck and shoulders. “What exactly are we looking to do _somewhere more private?”_

She looks at him, confused. He knows where this is going, clearly.

“I just mean, is this just a good snog? Or are we—”

“I think…” she clears her throat. “More than that. It is just, well, I don’t know about you, but I think I’m, um, fixating on you lately.”

“I’m obsessed with you,” Robin blurts out. He blinks, then looks absolutely mortified and coughs. “Not obsessed, I just… I mean I think about you a lot and god I want you so badly, all the time.”

“Me too,” she admits, kissing him again. “I think denying this is making it worse. And maybe if we just get it out of our systems. all of it, I mean…”

She looks to the men’s room to their left. It’s empty now, they could quickly dart in, it could be—

Robin must catch where her eyes are focused because he says. “Darling, if this is going where I think it is, I don’t want this time with you to be in a coat closet or next to a dirty toilet.”

Truth be told, she doesn’t want that either. But she doesn’t get to think of a beautiful romantic evening because that’s not what they are or will ever be.

“It was almost in a bathroom once and I don’t remember you complaining,” she murmurs in feigned annoyance. It’s not really fair, that was a private, clean bathroom where they had much more space and time. But still.

“And I’d take that again in a heartbeat. Honestly, if you asked me to have sex with you in the sewer I’d go. But my apartment is completely empty and I have a nice big bed.” He dips down to kiss her jawline. “And we’d have space,” another kiss to her collarbone, “and true privacy,” a kiss to her shoulder, “and loads of time to _get it out of our systems_.”

Well, that sounds wonderful, actually, so she won’t protest. She just smiles and says “Let’s go.” 

They leave the bar, travel through the holly and the mistletoe, the cottony fake snow decorations.  Everything feels festive, warm and worthy of celebration.  

It's the perfect night to selfishly indulge in what she's wanted for so very long.  So fitting with the Christmas theme.

 

 

.::.

He didn’t lie. His apartment is supposed to be empty and he knows 100% that John is still at the club when he leaves but Killian is always a bit of a wild card, so there are a bit of nerves as he opens the door.

Regina must similarly be skeptical, because she actually separates from him for a bit, peering around the darkened apartment for a sound of life.  

She didn't expect the guys to decorate, yet there is a little tree on the end table, plugged in, multicolored lights shining in the darkened apartment.  She wonders who took that out and went to the trouble of decorating.  It's sweet, actually.

Robin interrupts her thoughts. 

“We left John at the lounge. Killian was trying to invite me to some party at an oyster house. We’re alone.”

“Good,” she nods, taking off her coat and draping it across the arm of the couch.

He’s halfway done with taking off his own coat when she must get impatient, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him towards her.

He fumbles with the rest of his coat as they kiss, leaving it on the floor below and leading them back to his bedroom.

Robin isn’t sure why, but he has a need to lift and carry her those final steps, to have all of her for a few moments, all around him. He grabs at her ass to lift her and she makes this little heavenly hum that _does_ things to him. And then she’s in his arms, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him as he walks her into the room and onto the bed.

“You’re sure?” He asks again when he can bear to stop kissing her, he’s not sure why he is giving her a way out of this or a chance to change her mind, she’s so eager, but the words spill out anyway because it’s Regina and if she regrets a damn second of this it will crush him.

“Positive,” she moans, pulling him back into another kiss.

She tastes faintly of liquor and citrus, salt and something sweet, all of it together mixing into a cocktail he can’t stop drinking in again and again.

Her hands wander first, grabbing at his ass, then moving to slide as far down the back of his pants as his jeans will allow.

He knows she likes his body, she’s never really hidden that fact, probably because he’s been incredibly clear on what he thinks of hers, and turnabout is fair play.

Still, it’s nice to feel Regina Mills in his bed, eagerly groping him as she moans and rocks into him.

He’s had this fantasy before and he’s going to live it out in case he doesn’t have the opportunity again.

So he shifts, dips down her body, kisses her neck and shoulders everywhere he can while he pulls each strap of her dress down her arms.

He doesn’t move the dress down when he gets to the generous amount of cleavage she’s showing, just runs his tongue and lips along each swell, kissing where he can. She’s the one who pulls down her dress, taking each breast out of her dress and the very sexy looking strapless bra he sees a hint of.

He wonders if she wore it knowing something might happen, hoping for something (he’ll pretend she did, that she wore it for him). Maybe he’ll get to fully see it later, but now all he can focus on is getting it off her, along with any other scrap of clothing covering her body.

Her breasts are gorgeous handfuls, nipples tight and pert. He’s touched them under clothes but never truly seen them before, and as contrite as it sounds, they leave him a bit breathless.

Everything about her is perfect, of course she would have perfect tits.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groans, taking a nipple in her mouth. She giggles at first but gasps once his mouth is on her he feels her cup the back of his head while he kisses and sucks.

He fumbles with her dress looking for some sort of zipper, and her free hand moves him to it, but under her armpit, on her side, why can’t women’s clothing be easy and uniform? Why is always this bullshit that makes him look like he’s some stumbling virgin, why can’t he just have everything go smoothly this time?

He’s never cared this much about impressing anyone.

His temporary embarrassment fades as he bunches up the fabric of the lower portion of her dress and hikes it up, up her thighs.

She has great legs. He’s seen her covered only by a tiny towel, or in a bikini, enough to ogle and preserve the memory of, at least. But he’s never got to touch them the way he’s wanted when she’s in this state of undress. He touches now, draws his hand slowly up each shapely stem, squeezing tightly only for a second to feel the tense muscles there, god she’s fucking perfect, he’s going to spend a lot of time there, but now….

He rucks her dress up her waist, she shifts, arching her back to help him pull it up (it’s those little things, those little movements that remind him that she’s as into this as he is that spur him on, have him excited for more).

She’s beautiful like this, red dress bunched up around her torso, black underwear making a dark V across her light olive skin.

He dips down to kiss her belly button, he hears her gasp and giggle, but her hand also cups the back of his head, a little hum in the back of her throat a signal this isn’t unwanted at all.

Which is good, because he’s had enough alcohol to where he’s lost all inhibition and he’s going to touch her and kiss her all the ways he’s thought about over this last year and that is a _lot._

Robin dots kisses along the hem of her underwear, from hip to hip, and he feels her stifled laughter when he hits areas that must be ticklish. His heart swells. Fuck, she is so cute and so hot at the same time.

“Can this,” he asks tugging at her dress, “come off?”

Regina laughs and shifts up on her elbow, looking down at him. “Definitely.”

She scoots to the edge of the best and steps off from it. She’s still in her heels and she teeters a bit standing up, something that makes them both smile.

She twists and lifts the dress off her body and he’s struck breathless.

Her tits are still out of her bra, her hair is a little messy, lipstick all kissed off, her cheeks flushed, she’s never looked sexier to him at this moment.

Robin sits on the edge of the bed and pulls her close so she’s standing between his legs.

He looks up at her and tries to take all this in, the sight, the feel, the smell of her.

“You are the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I just—”

“Shh,” Regina presses her finger to his lips. “No need for all that, you already got me into bed.”

She says it half-joking, and he’s sure she knows that he’s not feeding her lines just to get inside her, but he protests anyway.

“Regina…” he trails off, trying to find the right words to express himself.

“I know,” she smiles, the twinkle in her eye assuring him that she had only been teasing,

“I’m not even trying to flatter you. You really are that beautiful. More so than I even imagined.”

He won’t go into it, how often he’s thought of her, but it’s been far too often for far too long.

He’s not sure when he decided to run his hands over her body, up and down the sides, over her breasts and down her belly, but he’s been itching to touch her like this since almost the instant they first met, and now it’s real and his body is acting on instinct.

When he can tear himself away from each curve of her body, when he chances a glance at her face, he finds her eyes shut, lips parted as she exhales slowly.

It’s an image he won’t soon forget, her all basking in the pleasure of his touch, skin glistening and dewy from sweat lips swollen from kissing and being kissed.

He’s seen her in very little before, bikinis, a towel, even a bra and panties quite accidentally once, but this is different, this time is so much more and she is so much more breathtakingly beautiful. He knew she was, there’s never been a doubt, still, her tits on display for him, her body pressed into his, god she’s fucking beautiful…

He’s thrilled that he can touch her the way he wants, look as long as he wants, because she’s letting him kiss her stomach, her belly sucking in and vibrating — a silent giggle, he thinks.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispers.

And then he thinks it wasn’t a laugh she was suppressing, the way her body vibrates, she’s shaking, from nerves or maybe anticipation.

“Me either,” he admits, because he feels the same giddy anticipation he hears in her voice.

Maybe he should ask her what the boundaries are, how far he can go, what he can touch if she will stay the night. Maybe he should tell her that he loves her already, even if she doesn’t want to hear it, even if he’s not quite ready to admit it.

She pulls at his shirt and he smiles and lifts his arms as she takes it off, then she straddles his lap and throws her arms around his neck and kisses him and all coherent thought leaves his mind.

She’s a delight, soft plump lips, warm smooth skin, eager, firm hands. His heart races at the feel of her, when she reaches for his belt buckle he has to do a double-take and remind himself that this is real, this is happening.

He does a replay of the night in a split second just to remind himself how lucky he’s been to _get_ to here, and then the shots, the tequila, everything comes back. And he’s going to hate himself if those goes wrong but he has to—

“You really want this?” he asks, already hating himself as she traces her hand down the length of him through his boxers. It’s a struggle, and he fucking hates himself for how much he fucking loves her, but he finishes, “we had a lot to drink tonight—”

“I’m not drunk,” she interrupts, and thank fucking god, she sounds convincing, he’s done his duty here, she’s sure, he doesn’t have to argue with her.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and why in the fuck is he still talking when he could be between her legs right now? He’s only fucking dreamt of this moment, agonized over it since that first Thanksgiving when he saw her, why not muck it up, right? “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

But instead of throwing on clothes and leaving, Regina just raises her eyebrows and wrinkles her nose. “I’ve thought about doing this plenty of times, when we were having coffee, just talking…”

He can’t even breathe, thinking of the sexual tension of those moments and realizing that yes, she felt the same.

He manages to nod and murmur something like “me, too,” but he can’t fully explain how many times he’s wanted her in that little coffee shop, how many times he’s stopped himself from kissing her, how many times he has hoped she was almost going to kiss him.

She kisses him with fire and he gives her everything he can back, feeling dizzy as she finally parts from him to kiss his jaw, his neck.

He’s doing terribly with this, all he can manage to do is squeeze her hips, a reminder that this is real, and try to swallow down every overeager groan that threatens to spill out and sets his mind on savoring this in case it never happens again.

The taste of citrus on her tongue, the distinct feel of her, her warm breath at every parted kiss, the way she dives back in for more with this assertive exuberance…

At some point, his back gives out and he’s no longer sitting on the edge of the bed but lying down on it, Regina half on top of him, half on her side.

This time when she reaches for the button of his fly he doesn’t protest. He helps her take his jeans and boxers off, his ears burning and cheeks hot in the realization that this is the first time she’s ever seen him completely stark naked.

“God, I want you,” she groans at the sight of him.

“Mm, me too,” he whispers.

He flips her, so she is on her back and he’s above her and rids her of her bra (though it wasn’t ever properly on and didn’t conceal much, having it off seems so much _more)._

Her hair is half in her face, her lipstick is almost all kissed off, her skin is flushed and red, her breasts still out of her bra, she looks fucking gorgeous and thank god they didn’t do this in a bathroom or closet, thank god he has all the time in the world to look at her like this, spread her out over his bed.

His hands wander over her body, over each dip and curve, yet again (he’s going to do it until he can memorize the way she feels, in case memories are all he ever has from this point on), and she melts into his touch, her breathing heavy as she rasps, “You have no idea how badly I need this.”

Her voice sounds so deep, throaty and dripping with need, and his desire to know just how much is ungodly.

“Do you?” he asks, and then he lets his hand slowly wander to the hem of her underwear. He pauses for a moment, waiting for any sign of protest, though thankfully there is none.

His fingers slide through the slippery wetness, damp lace rubbing against his fingers as he dives deeper and groans.

“Fuck, love, you really do need this, don’t you?”

She nods fervently, bums in affirmation and then rasps out a breathy, “Please, Robin.”

He doesn’t know if he’s ever been as turned on as he has now, with the woman he loves but cannot have begging him to get her off.

“I need to eat you out,” he tells her, kissing a path of fire down her neck.

“You really do,” she groans, playfully shoving at his shoulders. “right now.”

He chuckles a bit as he works his way down her body, stealing a few kisses down her abdomen before positioning between her legs and stripping her of her underwear.

He’s cursing the fact the room isn’t well lit, because he can’t properly see her. Still, his blinds aren’t drawn and there are Christmas lights up on the building across the street, as well as street lights brightly lighting his window, and he can see well enough. She’s gorgeous this way, her legs are toned and muscular, more so than he’s noticed before, thighs tight and defined.

He presses kisses up her inner thighs, each soft sigh from Regina actually sounding like heaven.

.::.

Robin is taking his time.

When she was at the bar, she was content to rush into a darkened corner or coat room, take him only as much out of his clothes as is necessary, and fuck his brains out till they were both sweaty and satiated.

But of course, it wasn’t going to happen that way, because that’s how attracted flirtatious near-strangers fuck for the first time, not two people like her and Robin.

No, everything is so much better with Robin and that’s so much worse. If he doesn’t get to eating her out soon and continues to spend all his time teasing her and whispering things about how beautiful she is and how much he loves her body and being so mind-numbingly loving she might have a panic attack and call the whole thing off (she won’t, this feels too good, she’s wanted this for too long).

She cups the back of his head and urges him up a bit, her clit has been aching for attention for some time, she’s plenty wet, and she really just needs to focus on the physical now.

Robin responds with this eager little growl that is so sexy she finds herself wondering how he’s feeling, if he wants this as badly as she does.

She doesn’t need to wonder, Robin answers that question for her, just by the attention he pays to her.

Robin is not inexperienced at this, and she’s keenly aware of that now. He’s drawing his tongue all around her sex, dipping inside, making these sexy little moans as he quite literally _eats_ at her. It’s too much for her to think of anything else but the firm, wet pressure of his tongue, his soft, teasing lips and the faint stubble scratching against her thighs in the most delicious of ways.

He has a rhythm to him but it’s not one she knows. His tongue firmly draws across her clit, finishing off with a short little suck that has her squirming already. He does that, flicks his tongue over her clit until she’s writhing and panting, and then moves away from the direct touch, fucking her with his tongue until she cries out, then returning to her clit again. She hasn’t had it quite like before, ever really. Daniel was a boy, they were kids, and he tried but… no, he wasn’t good at this. Graham was passionate but direct and hyper-focused on just one area, he didn’t care much for foreplay at all, in fact, she often had to ask him to stop and wait until she was a bit more worked up, her having to take matters into her own hands more than once. Jefferson was just methodical as if there were some sort of instruction manual he was following. She might have thought that was the way to go but… no, this, this is best, the passion and the heat and the pure hunger, it’s all so much better.

She won’t forget the way this feels, the throbbing pang when he buries his tongue against her clit, strong firm licks that make her feel as if she were flying, the way he grows that strong, warm ache growing as he — oh god, scrapes his teeth over her clit a sucks _hard._

It’s like a bolt of lightning shoots in her spine, her body jerks and she’s sure she cries out far too loud.

She hears Robin hiss, then draws away from her and practically begs, “Can I…?”

His fingers are right by her entrance, and fuck he has to know that sex is very much happening tonight, so of course he can do _that,_ and she’s panicked, worried she’ll lose the edge she’s riding as she nods fervently and hopes this isn’t a discussion that requires a pause.

It doesn’t, luckily. His fingers slip inside her easier than even she expected, her surprised breath is eclipsed by his soft curse.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, two of his fingers sliding in and out of her slowly, “Christ, I want to be inside you.”

She nods, she’s more than ready and wants to be with him, wants to feel him inside her, feel close and connected to him in that way (no, that’s not right, this is just scratching a very stubborn itch, it’s harmless, it’s —)

Oh!

He’s been fucking her with his fingers slowly, changing the pace, the angle, and he got something right, found the spot that makes her shake and pulse with need.

“Just there?” he asks. She likes that, very much, that he asks, that’s he’s not afraid to take down directions.

“There,” she whispers back, “but… faster.”

Oh fuck, his mouth is on her again and it is _heaven._

Okay, thank god he decided not to just fuck her right away, because the feeling of his mouth and fingers at the same time is incredible and foregoing this would be the biggest regret of her life.

His mouth is needy and insistent, his fingers are thrusting perfectly inside her, and fuck, she’s wanted this so badly with him and for so long, she _knew_ he’d be good, that they’d be this amazing together, oh fuck, just the _sound_ of him eating her and fucking her, the smack of his lips and thrust of his fingers into her wetness, it’s all too much, and she feels like a live wire, currents of pleasure radiating up through her as she cups his head and presses him into her.

“Robin, —oh! Robin, I’m going to!” and then she’s crying his name once more as she falls over the edge.

He doesn’t stop when she comes, but he _adjusts,_ gives her a lighter, slower touch and rides those last waves of her orgasm out with her. It’s intimate and sweet, full far more meaning than a “one night stand to get out of our systems” should be.

When the last of it leaves her, when she’s oversensitive, she taps him on the shoulder and he looks up smiling, practically leaping back up to her side, throwing his arms around her and kissing her deeply.

She used to be a bit prissy, the old Regina would have grimaced at the feel of his wet stubble, at the taste of her on his lips.

But this feels delightfully dirty, has her grinning as she kisses him back.

“You,” he pants all raspy and breathless, “are absolutely incredible.”

“I can’t believe how amazing that was,” she manages to say, sounding a bit breathless herself. “That might have been— I think it might be the best— ”

She cuts herself off out of embarrassment and fear, but Robin finishes her thought anyway, “It better have been the best for you, because this is absolutely the best night of my life.”

Regina chuckles, though that cautionary shiver runs down her spine, the worry that they are getting themselves into something that will end in a world of hurt.

“You haven’t even had anything for yourself yet,” she teases.

“Oh, I definitely have,” he tells her, his fingers threading through her sweat-dampened hair. “But fuck, you have no idea how badly that made me want to be inside you.”

He starts kissing down her neck and shoulders, slowly down her arm. She feels worshipped, appreciated in a way she hasn’t really been before.

She reaches an arm between them and manages to grab his cock in her hand. He jerks into her touch, softly cursing and throwing his head back into the feel of it.

“I want you,” she whispers, and he groans and curses _Thank fucking god._ She almost laughs, loving the effect she has on him, how needy and desperate he is.

She’s not sure how she wants this to go, her on top, her on bottom, at their sides or maybe have him take her from behind to keep this from being too feelsy — but Robin picks for her, urging her onto her back as he situates himself between her open legs.

“Fuck me,” she says, giving him permission she is sure he craves.

“I want this more than I want air,” he groans looking at her _there_ with hungry eyes.

He rubs a finger through her sex first. She’s soaked and sensitive and so ready to finally be with him that the slight touch has her letting out an embarrassing groan.

“Christ,” he whispers, “I can’t wait any longer.”

She nods, even manages to add in a desperate little, “please” that she hopes will snap him out of delaying this further.

He grabs himself and rubs the tip of him through her folds, rubbing lightly at her clit and then drawing down.

“You want this?” he asks, this time sounding a little… maybe nervous.

He shouldn’t be.

“I really do, I have— I have for _years_ now, Robin, please **!”**

He slides into her easily, then, in one swift motion that fills her up. She knew he was thick, but it’s more so than she quite imagined, and she feels herself stretched in the best of ways, smiling as she adjusts to the feel of him.

“You feel so damn good,” she smiles, watching his face as it softens from that nervous look to one of relief and elation.

“You feel incredible, I… fuck I’m—” he grits his teeth, “Jesus, I love you like this.”

She bends her knees and he takes the cue, hooking one over his shoulder as he adjusts and thrusts inside her.

It takes a few motions before he hits just right, sliding in and out in a way that makes her nerve endings buzz and churn.

“That’s— that’s it!” she gasps, “but faster.”

Robin grimaces, his brow knitted tight as he takes in a deep breath and bites down on his bottom lip. “Want to- make it- last—”

If he keeps talking and looking like this, keeps making those sounds and looking like she’s the most tempting thing on earth, he might not have to last that long at all.

But he slows down, stills inside her, even, lets her leg go from his shoulder, whispering “sorry” in her ear.

“This is what happens after a night of you teasing me, it seems. I just need a minute.”

She laughs lightly and threads her hands through his hair and tilts her head to find his lips.

“It’s okay,” she assures, “we can just do this.”

They trade soft, slow kisses, their legs tangled in one another, his hot breath on her skin.

It’s all too intimate, it’s exactly what this night _shouldn’t_ be about, and yet she’s letting it happen, enjoying it, not wanting it to end.

“Love,” he says, and he’s called her that before, she supposed, but in this context when he’s buried inside her and they are kissing like old lovers, it’s just so much more meaningful.

“Fuck me,” she manages to say, biting down all the more meaningful emotions that are rising when she looks into his eyes, feeling him solid inside her.

Robin’s adam’s apple bobs, he nods, draws back, bites his tongue, and starts to move in earnest.

It doesn’t take him long to find that angle again, to hit that spot inside her just right, her quiet moans growing louder in the space between them.

She says his name so much — _yes Robin_ and _oh, Robin,_ and _god, Robin, right there —_ because this is what she wanted for so long and now she has it, if only once. Every time she says his name, every time she hears his thick accent returning her moans, it’s a reminder that she’s fucking the person she’s lusted over the most, the one who cares for her, and this shouldn’t mean anything but it does anyway, the fact that it’s _him_ making her feel this way still sends a thrill through her. Her friend, her best friend, the one she’s been fantasizing about for well over a _year._

The look on his face is pure sex, she’s seen it before, his eyes seek to bury into her soul, the lust so strong in them she would almost be rendered speechless.

Those quiet glances across the room or across a table for the last few months has stoked a fire that is burning now, god, she’s so glad she finally had him, finally can feel him like this, on top of her, fucking her hard pressing random kisses to her lips, her neck, her shoulders as he moves.

It’s all just so overwhelming to all of her senses, the touch, the sight, the taste of him, god, it’s perfect, exactly what she’s craved for so long.

He shifts a bit, leans back and grabs that leg and hooks it back over her shoulders, and — oh god! — he’s fucking her hard now, fucking her how she’s always imagined he would, and it feels so good and she cannot be too loud, so she settles for digging her nails into his back and scratching hard as he thrusts, pleasuring blooming and spreading with every pass of his hips.

“Robin! It’s so—!” Her voice is already hoarse from a night out and the last several minutes in, and it sounds as rough as gravel.

“I know, darling,” he pants, “fuck, I know. It’s better than anything, I can’t even, _mm!_ Better than I even dreamed.”

And she knows there have been dreams on both their parts for quite some time, and there’s nothing more satisfying than living out an actual dream.

He picks up speed and _damn_ that is good, everything slips and slides right into place, and she groans, nodding enthusiastically, “like that!” she groans, “harder!”

His jaw tenses draws her leg up higher and does exactly what she says. Fucks her hard and fast and recklessly as if he can’t hold anything back.

He starts talking, and the sound of his voice just adds even more to this, he’s telling her that she has no idea how good she feels, how she’s the best he’s ever had, how much he’s wanted her, since the first time he saw her, how he thinks about her all the time, and fuck, she nods, tries to pull herself out of the blissful haze she’s swamped in to nod, to rasp, ”you feel unbelievable,” and “wanted you so much,” and “me too”.

He reaches between them without her having to ask, his hand sliding down her sweat-dampened belly.

“Do you want—?” he asks, his fingers moving downward, so close to her clit she could almost scream.

She nods and manages a broken “mm-hmm!” before he’s touching her and fucking her, his fingers clumsy and too light at first, but he gets it when she calls out “there!” and “more!” and “harder!”

His thumb movies in small tight circles while he fucks her like there’s no tomorrow and it feels incredible, each thrust a little punch of pleasure, his fingers driving her closer and closer. She clings tightly to the edge for as longs as she can — selfishly, she knows he is close and looks like he’s about to burst, but she doesn’t want this to end, god, she wishes she could have this forever.

She lets herself fall over when she hears him groan her name and tells her he’s never wanted anyone more in his life.

It’s white-hot pleasure and trembling bliss, coming on his cock while he moves inside her, grunting and saying her name in a strangled gasp.

As she comes down from her high it’s clear that he hasn’t — he’s rallied and powered through it, still looking like it’s taken an incredible strength of will, but thank god it doesn’t have to end yet, thank god they have just a bit more time.

And with that, Regina smiles and taps his shoulders.

“Did you—?” he asks.

She almost laughs, he should know that and shouldn’t have to ask, but they are young and perhaps he just wants to bask in the pride of undoing her a bit.

“Yes, god yes. Very hard, and a lot. But I want to make you come now, I want to be on top.”

He smiles then, that tight, painful look dissolving into one of relief.

“Please,” he says, moving out of her with a little moan of protest as he lies beside her and urges her on top.

She straddles him, and pauses, takes a moment to drink this man in, how he feels underneath her, the way he smells and the way he looks at her. She loves how affected he is, how he looks like he can’t resist her, like she has some sort of spell on him.

She can relate.

And then she just sinks down on his cock and rebels in the feeling of it, moving slow at first, drawing it out as long as she can.

.::.

Robin is stuck between blessing the tequila and cursing it.

It’s helping, he knows, with his ability to prolong this fuck a bit.

But if this buzz at all curbs his ability to remember every fucking thing he feels he’s going to swear off drinking forever, because this is the best experience of his life.

He reaches up above him to cup Regina’s tits, thumbing and pinching the nipple as they bounce.

She’s riding him slowly, but enough to make her breasts look irresistible (though she accomplishes that quite well by breathing).

She groans and steadies herself by smacking paws into her chest, those perfect breasts jiggling as she mutters, “You’re so thick.”

He bites his lip, nods and reminds himself that he can’t come — as good as she’s telling him he is feeling, as good as she feels all around him, she’s all right and wet and warm and there are these little contractions squeezing his cock every now and then and he cannot get enough of it, already dizzy from being so close to coming for so long.

But she might not ever let him fuck her again, he might not ever have _this_ again, so if this is the last time he better damn sure make it last enough to make memories for a lifetime (he _will_ be revisiting the way she looks when she comes, the sounds she makes, his name on her lips as she begs for more — dear Christ).

He tries to memorize the way she looks as her jaw drops as she shifts on his cock, the way her back arches, those satisfied little sighs as she rides him, the hardened peaks of her breasts as they bounce in the low light of the room… oh fuck, there’s no way he’s going to go his whole life without seeing those again...

He palms at her ass, encouraging her to ride him faster, and fuck, that is another part of her body he’s loved for so long, and it is just as perfect as he could have guessed, firm, muscular and plump. He squeezes hard enough to where he worries he will be scolded, but Regina just shuts her eyes tight and groans “that’s good”

Oh fuck, he won’t last much longer now.

“Close again,” Regina pants, and _fuck,_ he’s going to have to hold back for her, “I… think I can—“

“God, I want to see you come again,” his muscles tense, determined to ride through this pleasure, “god, you fuck so good, darling, does it feel good this way? Are you — _mm! —_ going to come on my cock again?”

She bites her lip and nods, “Love the way you feel.”

She’s added a little swirl to her hips every few thrusts, and he’s not sure why but it drives him wild.

“Fuck, that feels amazing,” he rasps, “Oh, god I’m trying, I want to— _mm_!”

“Wait for me,” she directs, she combs her hair back and he can hear her nails scratching hard at her scalp. “I _need_ to come again, Robin, I—“ she looks down at him and moans, “ _fuck_ you look so good.”

He knows she is attracted to him but the fact the sight of him can have her losing her train of thought is quite the ego boost, fuck, he really needs her to slow down, he’s so close.

She goes faster instead, and he bites his lip hard enough to taste blood.

Before was for him but now she’s seeking her own pleasure, riding him hard and fast, and he should shut his eyes, that would make it easier if he couldn’t see her face screwed up in that blissful way, if he couldn’t see the way her tits bounce as she rides, it would be easier on him if he didn’t let his eyes drift down to where they are joined, if he didn’t watch himself slide in and out as she takes him in, again and again, oh god, but how can he shut his eyes and miss this?

She grabs his hand and pushes it towards her core, and then he snaps into action, he’s an idiot, he should have been rubbing at her clit as soon as she climbed on top of him, fuck.

But she’s close, and touching her clit is like touching a live wire, she jerks and spasms under the touch, thank god, her clit swollen and hard underneath his fingertips, god he can do this, he can make it last...

“Make me come again,” she moans, “Robin, you feel so good, I can’t believe, your fingers, you—“

Regina is close now, she’s starting to babble and he never knew she was _this_ sexy, that watching her enjoy herself would make every sense come alive, that he could be this painfully, throbbing hard and close and still hold back for her, god she’s pulsing around his cock now, so wet he almost cannot stand it, so warm, oh god…

“Oh, Robin— _mm!”_ She pitches forward, the wind almost gets knocked out of him with how hard she presses her palms into his chest as she comes around him, those familiar little convolutions he’s going to think about forever squeezing and surrounding his cock, her relieved moans falling from her lips, that little content smile…

He grips her hip with one hand and squeezes her ass with his other, one to anchor himself, the other for his own pleasure, because as much as he’d like to try to make her come _again_ he for sure won’t last through this, and he aches so badly for her he just needs to let go. He fucks her with abandon, for a few moments completely surrendering to the feel of her, until she tells him to come inside her, then, with that permission, with those words sounding like pure heaven on her lips, he finally he lets go, his body shakes as his release washes over him, it’s _strong_ , and it’s a lot, the feeling overwhelms him, relief taking over as he spills into her in erratic spurts.

She encourages him, tells him she has wanted him to come inside her for so long, that she loves the feeling of it, that it’s never felt this good before.

She doesn’t stop riding him until he starts to soften inside her, and then she gingerly moves off him, his cock slipping out of her, wet and spent, as she slumps down next to him with a satiated sigh.

He urges her to lie her head on his chest, and the feeling is safe and warm and perfect, feeling her breath on his skin as she pants and comes down to earth, her body still trembling in his arms.

He never wants to let her go.

For a few moments that’s all they do, cling tightly to one another and catch their breath. It was good sex, exhausting in the best of ways and it seems it’s left them both a bit jelly legged and drained.

“I don’t know about you, but that is _definitely_ not _‘out of my system’,_ ” he says cheekily, kissing her forehead, echoing her words from earlier that night.

He feels her chuckles more than hears it. Then she cups her chin on his chest and looks up at him and shakes her head.

“No, that most definitely did not get it out of my system. I think it may have backfired.”

“Yeah, I’m going to want you even more now, if that’s possible,” Robin sighs, running his hand through the dampened locks of her head.

Regina dips down to press a kiss just above his nipple and hums. “This still can’t happen again.”

“Sure it can,” Robin say as nonchalantly as he can muster (but oh, he wants this badly, nothing has mattered more at the moment). “It can happen again and again as often as we like.”

“Robin, I can't date you. I’ll lose Emma as a friend, and then, when we break up, I’ll lose you as a friend too, and you two are like family to me, I can’t lose that.”

“If I'm like family, what we did was a bit wrong,” he teases.  But he really has never liked those moments where Regina would refer to him as "like family", as sweet as it was, he did not want her to look at him as a brother.

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“You’re never going to lose me, you know. This wouldn’t ever change how I feel about you as my friend. You’ll always have that with me. I swear it.”

Regina shakes her head. “You can’t make those promises. And I don’t want to lose you guys. And anyway, I’m not getting into a serious relationship ever, that isn’t me, I’m not… I don’t want that. But absolutely not in _college._ I’m supposed to be… experimenting. And trying new things.”

That’s what every woman seems to say in college, and Robin has watched many of them — including his sister — fall into something serious despite being adamant that they don’t want that.

Regina wants to try other things, date other people, fuck other people. He can handle all that, it’s odd, but it doesn’t seem to matter who she _experiments_ with. But the thought of her getting serious with someone else is an unpleasant one.

“I never said anything about dating,” he says softly, smiling down at her. “I just said this should happen again. I mean, given that it was fucking fantastic…. for both of us, it seemed.”

He watches her cheeks flush bright pink as she ducks away from his eyes for a moment, then nods. “It was incredible sex.  Like....out of this world.”

Yes, it was.

“So why deny ourselves that?” Robin asks. “Why can’t we just be friends, and when the mood strikes, we—“

“You want a fuckbuddy?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I want to pleasure my best friend,” he counters, making her laugh and swat his chest playfully.

“So selfless,” she groans sarcastically, clearly amused by him. She shakes her head. “I promised Emma I wouldn’t be with you. She’s picked up on something because she keeps asking me to swear it and keeps reminding me how many hearts you’ve callously broken.”

He feels a bit of guilt over that. He is growing up, he supposes, because he can acknowledge that Emma has a point. He’s never been all too kind to the women he slept with. When he started feeling less for them he assumed they felt the same and ended things rather abruptly. He’d be genuinely surprised to learn women would cry over him, didn’t they notice the dwindling passion? Didn’t they also start to lose interest?

“I’m not like that anymore,” he says, deciding that yes, from this day forward he will change.

She looks scared, like she’s about to protest, and he remembers she’s also argued that she doesn’t do relationships.

She doesn’t want this.

 _He_ does, and that surprises him. Something in his soul tells him if he is with Regina, really with her, it will be for life. He’s too young for that, he shouldn’t want that. And yet…

But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not what she wants. So he will try to take whatever scraps of her he can get.

“I’m not proposing we date. I just don’t think we need to close the door on anything physical happening again, because it was too damn good. We go together quite well.”

Regina sighs. “We really, really do.”

“So….” Robin breathes out slowly, “Let's just say if it happens again, it happens. We can keep it from Emma. From everyone. It can just be the way we mutually indulge in a brainless, stress-free activity.”

“No strings attached sex?” She asks, and thank god, she seems interested.

“Absolutely. You don’t belong to me, I don’t belong to you, we come together whenever we want. Nice and simple.”

She rolls her eyes and smiles. “I’m fairly certain if this were simple, more people would be doing it.”

Robin shrugs. “People are idiots, Regina.”

She laughs and nods. “Fine. If we can keep this a secret, and keep it casual… I mean, I’ve _never_ had sex like that before. I don’t want to give it up either.”

“Good.” A sense of relief washes over Robin. He’ll be with her again, this isn’t going away, which is wonderful because the thought of only having that once was absolutely going to kill him.

She cuddles into him and for a while, they just enjoy the afterglow together, until exhaustion starts to overtake them. He hears her patterned breathing on his chest as he strokes her hair.

He’s fairly certain she’s fallen asleep until she startled him by getting up, looking flustered and embarrassed as she grimaces, “Sorry. I should go.”

“Don’t go,” Robin pleads, urging her back down. “Stay the night, please.”

“Your roommates will have a field day with that. Emma will know about us before I make it home.”

Robin shakes his head. “They sleep late. Let’s lock the door tonight, then tomorrow you can sneak out.” He can see the indecision on her face, and adds, “Come on, you’re exhausted, you’re going to go home and Emma is going to ask you where you were and you’re going to have to deal with all of that tonight? Put that off. Let’s stay in our bubble a bit.”

Regina seems closer to agreeing and Robin realizes he’s not once begged a woman to spend the night, he’s never wanted it this badly.

God, he has it bad for her.

She still needs some convincing and perhaps permission to do this, to know that she can cuddle him all night and have this still be a friendship with meaningless add-one, so he adds, “Plus if you stay a little longer I’m fairly certain we can go another round.”

She laughs and shifts, settling into him.

That’s it. That worked.

“Fine,” she says, snuggling into him and shutting her eyes. “I’ll stay the night. Another round should get me through the holidays with mother, at least.”

Robin’s heart drops a bit, remembering she will be spending the holidays without him.

But not _all_ the holidays, he remembers.

“Though is you need someone to help you through New Years…” he starts, only half-kidding.

“Spending New Years with Emma,” she yawns, “Girls night. No boys allowed.”

She’s so adorable sometimes. He laughs, completely fucking enamored by her. “I’m only asking for a few minutes. Just enough time to give you a mind-blowing orgasm to ring in the new year.”

“Mmm,” she hums, “maybe.”

He decides to take that as a win.

He kisses her forehead and basks in the feeling of Regina, naked and wrapped around him.

He sleeps well that night, satisfied, exhausted, and hopeful for the future.

This won’t be the last time that he’s with Regina, he knows that.

And, hopefully, this is a new beginning that can grow into something more meaningful.

But for now, he will just enjoy what he has with his beautiful friend, the woman who won’t let him love her the way he wants to but deserves every bit he has to give.

 


End file.
